


We've Got Time

by Miramise



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miramise/pseuds/Miramise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the Striunion, Dirk has a problem he thought he got over, until he met his brother in the flesh.  Turns out it's not as much of a problem as he thought, but they *are* a little pressed for time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Got Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> No beta; all mistakes are mine (so likely a lot of tense jumping and occasional wrong words). Unfortunately I misread my prompt, so it didn't come (heh) out quite as porny as it should have. Still, I hope it's a decent read.

"Sorry."

It took a lot to make Dirk want to laugh aloud, and just as much to make him keep it in. There wasn't anything for Dave to be sorry about as far as Dirk was concerned. He would have hugged him forever if Dave let him. He said none of this, however, and just wrapped his arms around his not-older brother.

Hugging was nice. Very very nice.

Perhaps it was due to a significant _lack_ of any human touch when he was growing up that allowed Dirk to enjoy the embrace a lot more than either one of them would ever admit to. Not even his time with Jake felt as comfortable and warm as what he was feeling now with Dave in his arms. The only thing that marred the perfect moment was the knowledge of how much of a douche his other self had been towards Dave. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and soured any other possibilities that briefly ran through his mind.

Because if Dirk wasn't able to do anything else, he could now honestly face the parts of himself that were okay, not-so-okay, and not on any social norm that existed when society had been an actual thing. And the feelings he once had for his older brother were making a reappearance for the brother was wasn't a legend. Wasn't beyond his reach. Who was very much real and in his arms at that very moment.

Before he was even aware of the game and all the bullshit shenanigans that said game would entail, Dirk knew he harboured feelings towards his historic brother that were probably not normal. But he didn't have a point of reference to truly draw from in a practical sense. The research he did was in the end only words on a screen, nothing more. There wasn't any judgement towards his feelings due to the tiny fact of there not being any other living person to judge him in the first place. And he was smart enough to know not to bother discussing the topic with any of his friends. Whether that was because of an instinctual awareness of the 'complexity' of the subject, or just knowing his friends well enough to want to avoid the mess, Dirk didn't know and didn't waste time trying to find out. It was enough that he _knew_ and avoided the problem.

Except the problem was making a comeback, at the worst of times and in the absolutely most embarrassing of ways.

"It's okay, you know."

Dirk resisted the urge to look around, positive there had to be another splinter of himself somewhere around and out of his control. It was the only explanation for hearing what he had.

"No, seriously, it's okay."

Doubt filled the empty spaces in his mind as Dirk turned to look down at the Strider in his arms. It was impossible for that to have come from Dave, wasn't it?"

' _Oh god do not tell me--no way, these poofy-ass shorts are way too loose, and it's not even that bad. There's no way--oh sweet vanilla jesus he knows--_ '

"I think that's the thing that fucked me up the most about all of it," Dave mumbled, unaware of the turmoil he was creating in Dirk's mind. "It's that despite everything was how I felt towards him, and knowing just how wrong it was and he probably would've tossed me off the roof or something. Or worse, laughed it off, maybe called me a freak; so couldn't chance it. I already knew I was weird anyway; didn't need the added shit, so I kept my mouth firmly shut. I can't imagine what that damn psycho puppet would have done with the info, or would have made Bro do with it."

' _He knows. How the fuck--_ '

Dirk tried to speak, making a squeaky mousey sound on his first attempted. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Um, you already said how you felt--about how he kind of fucked up in being your guardian and all."

"I have a type," Dave plowed on, non-sequitur leaving Dirk off-kilter. "I should have figured it out, but there you are. Either buck-tooth dorks who would need a mallet to the head before they'd ever figured out that someone liked them, or douches who swing swords and have equally douchey fashion choices like popped collars and spats." He shrugged, which somehow also moved him deeper into Dirk's arms. "I blame my bad tastes on a solitary lifestyle and my mom, who I am told has equally bad tastes. Or so I heard. And saw. Really, it's all her fault. Just had to pass those genetics onto me. I suppose that's okay though. Rose can keep the weird wizard slash shit."

Dirk really had no idea what to think, which might explain the absurdness that tumbled out his mouth. "I don't wear popped collars."

"Dude, a hat on a shirt is also pretty damn douchey from where I'm sitting." The sigh that followed held a ridiculous amount of false exasperation, and they both knew it. "I don't know which is worse, the guy who wears stuff like that, or the guy who likes the guy who wears stuff like that."

Dirk reached up to touch his ear, mildly surprised to find it dry and his brain not oozing out of it. He felt as much, if he were to understand what Dave was saying in all ways but directly. Yet he was sure such feelings went against the norm during Dave's time.

He nearly smacked himself for his idiocy. Yes, it probably wasn't what society called normal. And that meant Dave probably kept a lid on it. After all, it's what Dirk had done on a smaller scale with his friends. And he didn't have the disadvantage of living with a version of himself hopped up on the influence of a psychotic alien timelord.

He just had Hal. And that was enough assholes in one place as far as Dirk was concerned.

' _So now what?_ ' he wondered. ' _You have a version of your brother who you can actually talk to, let alone touch, and who said they have similar feelings, or had them, or have--yeah, screw this._ '

' _yolo_ '

Perhaps under different circumstances, Dirk would have made plans and backup plans and backup plans for the backup plans on how to proceed. But they were hours away from going to fight for their lives in an effort to create a new universe and hopefully getting something vaguely resembling a happy ending. And not one iota of their survival was guaranteed. So as far as plans went; they didn't.

He reached down to grasp Dave's chin, tilting his face up as Dirk's other hand carefully removed his scalene shades. He set them aside before reaching for Dave's, pausing long enough to silently make known his intent. A quick nod allowed him to remove the aviators, setting them down next to his own.

Dirk bit back an embarrassing squeak. He had never seen any pictures of his brother without his shades, and dimly wondered if his older bro's eyes were as vibrant a red as the ones he was looking at now. It was on the tip of his tongue to note just how pretty those eyes were, but found said tongue suddenly very busy as impatience got the better of Dave, who leaned up to kiss Dirk who was taking too long far as he was concerned.

It felt like an eternity pass, though likely more so a handful of minutes at best, before Dirk's rational mind rudely intruded and forced him to pull back.

"I thought--that is--I'm not--"

"Oh fucknuggets, and people say _I_ talk too much." Dave yanked him back down for another few seconds of tongue dueling before letting Dirk breathe again. "I already _know_ you're not him, and I'm pretty fucking sure you know _I'm_ not _him_ either. So shut up and get back to the mackin' already."

The analytical part of Dirk's mind wanted to point out the grammatical confusion of that statement, but the rest of him quietly told that section to shut down already. Unfortunately, not only did it refuse just as Dirk was making good on sucking Dave's breath away, but it was much too logical a point for him to ignore.

He felt his dick jump when Dave whined as Dirk pulled back yet again. "Sorry, sorry," he panted, "but I thought that troll chick was going to show up here. I don't think you want to--"

"Okay, point the first," Dave nearly growled, "it's going to take her better than an hour to get here. Point the second, she's blind. Point the third, she's coming by jetpack. If neither of us can hear a fucking jetpack coming a mile away, I'm officially signing us up for sign language classes, cause we are both obviously very deaf. Finally, Terezi can smell a dog taking a dump a few states over, but last time I checked, she wouldn't know what humans having sex smelled like, so I'll tell her I burnt some Kool-Aid or something."

As Dave was saying this, he made good use of his hands which made their way into Dirk's pants, such as they were. Dirk didn't bother hiding back a grown; Dave succeeding in making Dirk's very annoying superego silent.

"Fuck," he hissed, feeling Dave's hand grope his cock. "W-warn a guy first."

"No time," Dave muttered, pulling himself closer. He wound up knocking Dirk flat on his back, using the new position to grind shamelessly against Dirk's thigh. "Even if it's gonna take her a bit to get here, I seriously doubt we have time for a full tango here. And shit why are these shorts so damn poofy jesus christ on a pogo."

And why he felt a need to laugh just as Dave was doing a very good job of melting his brain, Dirk had no clue. The hand wrapped around him had no finesse, no technique, and was obviously set on getting him off as quickly as possible. Still felt a thousand times better than his own hand ever had.

"Fro-frottage," he managed to gasp out between breaths. This caused Dave to pause, earning him a disappointed groan.

"I have never learned French, just so you know."

"Wow, for someone who's bro worked in the porn industry, your education is decidedly lacking."

"Screw you--"

"Later."

"--for all that he was a douche, he made sure to keep the really hard shit away from me." Dave turned away, Dirk clearly heard his mumbled. "Just scared me with the dick puppets."

Now was not the time to think about his other self.

Dirk sat up, spilling Dave into his lap. He didn't get a chance to protest before Dirk yanked him up by the cowl to smash their lips together. He yanked his own shorts down, groaning softly at the air hitting his flesh, then carelessly pulled Dave's pants down enough to expose him as well. Dave hissed, cursing into the kiss before Dirk pulled back.

"You fucker--"

Dirk cut off whatever complaint was in the making when he wrapped his fingers around both their erections. Dave's words disintegrated into a pained moan as he slumped forward against Dirk's shoulder.

"Frottage," Dirk said, his voice rough and low, "is rubbing up against either other until we get off. Our pants might suffer, but still easy to clean up from than full on nude sexy time."

"Fine whatever just do something before I stab you, you prick."

Any other time Dirk might chide his brother on being so impatience. But knowing this might be their only chance to be this close, Dirk wisely shoved all useless thoughts to the side. Hand filled with both their cocks, Dirk shifts his hips up just as Dave's jerk downward from the stimulation. A harsh moan erupts from both teens who quickly find a desperate rhythm of grinding and jerking against one another. Dave muffles swears, mewls, and mindless rambling against Dirk's shoulder. Dirk let's his head slump back, mouth falling open to add his own soft whines mingle in the air. It's awkward and graceless and so hot he briefly wonders if the troll will only find a puddle where two Striders used to be. His pleasure-addled brain only gets hazier when he feels Dave's hand covering his own to squeeze the hard flesh in an even tighter grip. It's almost too much, but Dirk couldn't care less, as long as it didn't stop.

Both Striders growl, hiss, and pant to each other. They continuously fall in and out of sync with each other, hips grinding up and down, trying to pushing their heated flesh harder into the combined hold between them. Neither wants to let go first, the pressure of reaching the edge proving almost too much an addiction for them to give up yet.

Dirk falls over first when he feels teeth clamp down on his neck. The sharp pain burns straight through his body, destroying the thread thin control he'd been scrambling for. His cry rips itself free as his cock pulses hard in his hand. He can feel the heated mess spilling over his fingers, then even more as the teeth bite deeper into his shoulder. Dave adds to the flow with a scream catching in his throat. Their bodies jerk helplessly against each other, every surge pushing the air from their lungs. One last throb leaves Dirk falling once more to his back, Dave going down with him, equally limp.

They laid there on the roof gasping for all the air they lost. Dave's weight felt comfortable on Dirk's chest, so he didn't feel inclined to push him off any time soon. Once their breathing began to settle, he silently started counting down from five.

"Holy fuck," Dave muttered when the countdown reached zero.

"Well, we are god-tier, though it wasn't penetrativ--” Dirk lifted an eyebrow over the hand now covering his mouth.

"No fuck you shut up and enjoy the damn afterglow." Dave let his hand fall away, too tired to keep it there for long. "Seriously, just let whatever-the-fuck after-sex chemicals do their thing."

He would love to, really, but Dirk knew they really shouldn't stay like that for too long. "We gotta try and clean up somehow, you know."

"Dirk Strider, killer of mellow sex buzzes." Dave swore once and rolled off. Dirk missed the weight and wondered if he'd get the chance to invent some 'brain-be-quiet' in the future to shut his up. Because his brain was definitely rude, had the worst ideas and truly did kill the sex buzz.

"You can fly. I can fly. Your apartment's still up there looking down on everything like a judgemental parent. We'll clean up in a minute. Happy?"

It was right there on the edge of his lips for Dirk to say they were about to head off into what would likely be the fight of their life, with no guarantees of success, regardless of what certain spidery grey aliens wanted to say.

A fight he wasn't going into alone, but instead with a brother who was real, who he could touch, and didn't find him strange or abnormal or a freak.

"Huh. I am, actually."

"What?"

"Nothing. Enjoy the buzz. I think we got at least five minutes."

Dave shifted to lay his head back on Dirk's chest. "No shit, Sherlock. That's what I was trying to tell you. Then you had to go and be the killjoy. The joy died, man. It's dead and will never see another sunrise. You completely assassin--” Dave found his face smooshed against Dirk, courtesy of a hand pressing against the back of his head.

"Just shut up and mellow," Dirk ordered.

Dave only snorted before resettling himself. He grumbled something about resurrection before drifting off, Dirk doing the same a few moments later.

\- _fin_ -


End file.
